I am always starting books about mathematical concepts that I never finish, because I love the ideas but I suck at the math.
The one thing I learned from a David Foster Wallace book about infinity, before giving up with the usual hiccup of half-assed shame, was that infinity isn’t a linear concept. It’s bushy; because of fractions, I think. It curls around in every direction, filling in all the empty spaces with ever-tinier numbers that have crazy long digits. The number line is an illusion- it's more of a toilet brush.
I think people are like this. A person walks around looking like a discreet individual who fits in their clothes; but really is swollen, crammed with lots of different people.
I learned well into my adulthood that my sister, brother, and I were raised by 3 different sets of parents. The parents who raised me had lots of energy and smart, definite ideas about how children should be brought up, and what was important for them to know. (For instance, much like the English aristocracy, they believed that everyone should speak French.) The people who raised my sister were flexible on the foreign language requirement, and soft on curfew as well. The complete strangers who raised my brother enjoyed doing other people’s laundry and having young adults live in their house. Those people were aliens.
The weird thing is, all those people stayed wedged in the same 2 bodies, showing whichever manifestation had been selected for each child. I don’t know how they kept it straight. My siblings have figured out when we confuse each other, usually it's because we're talking about different parents.
The other thing I learned is that a person getting their needs met is vastly different from a person whose needs are not being met, even if the same corpse is involved. I see this now, and it looks desperate. How do you beg for love? How do you ask for what you need, especially if you’re not sure what you’d be like if you got it? What if you’re afraid of the people in you that you haven’t seen, or can’t remember?